


Purpose

by byebyebluejay



Series: SellSoul [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, M/M, Mention of blood, Soul Selling, but only a teeny bit, cursing, demon jim, soulless sebastian, they smooch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 07:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7791463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byebyebluejay/pseuds/byebyebluejay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After completing the task that made Sebastian want to give up his soul in the first place, he finds himself without a direction and at risk of letting himself slide into permanent lethargy. Jim, the demon he sold his soul to, offers an alternative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purpose

Sebastian had been sleeping. Or maybe he had been unconscious. His body and mind didn’t feel rested. Both were aching, but beyond that he felt almost peaceful. Calm and slow as some sort of grazing animal. No need to open his eyes. Clever, cool fingers were under his shirt, stroking his stomach. They soothed over the muscles and drew swirling patterns on his skin. Sebastian didn’t particularly care whose hands were doing the petting. It was comforting, anyway. As he lay there, trying to chase out the ache from his mind and relax his muscles, a voice intruded on the silence.

_I can tell you’re awake._

Was he hearing the voice? Or was it speaking into his mind? Difficult to say, but it filled his awareness for a moment before drifting away like a leaf in a stream. 

“Do you remember me, Sebastian? Open your eyes.”

The voice was sweet and dark and tinted with a lilting accent. Dublin. If it was a voice at all. It didn’t bother him to obey it, so he did, opening his eyes to look up into the face of a demon. At first, it wasn’t really a face at all, just a formless black cloud that absorbed all light, two-dimensional and almost impossible to look at and understand. Gradually, though, a form came out of it: dark eyes, arched brows, and a very Irish chin. It did look like the sort of face he should remember, but so far no bells were ringing. 

“Have we met before?” 

“Yes,” The demon answered, wetting his lips with a deathly pale tongue, “But I’m not surprised you don’t remember. The last time you saw me like this, you still had a soul. I didn’t try to pretty myself up for you after you signed it over.” There was some inconsistency there, but Sebastian felt slow and sleepy. It took him several seconds to realize what it was.

“You’re trying now, though.” 

“Yes.”

“Why is that?”

“Now I’m trying to seduce you again, Sebastian. Can you figure out why you’re here?” Why was he there? Where was he, even? He had no recollection of coming here under his own power. The last thing he remembered was blood and heat, victory and contentment. But he could not think what might have caused him to feel that way. Letting his eyes close again, he shrugged.

“Come, now,” The demon urged, “Tell me what you know.”

“I don’t remember coming here.” 

“Very good, Sebastian. So…?”

“Did you take me here?” The demon’s smile opened like a split seam. 

“So your brain is working. Slowly. But that’s better than most manage. I did. Can you tell me why you don’t remember?” The answer seemed so obvious that Sebastian didn’t see the point in the demon asking. 

“Because I passed out.” The demon’s fingers caught a pinch of skin on his stomach and tugged hard. An extra, acrid bristle of pain shot through the point of contact. Sebastian wrinkled his nose, but didn’t try to pull away. The pain didn’t feel particularly pressing. 

“But why?” 

“No idea.” The demon sighed and released Sebastian, rising to his feet. 

“Do you remember the papers I tried to give you immediately after you signed your soul over to me? They had your keys in them.” Apparently noticing his vacant, indifferent expression, the demon pressed on, “You wrote yourself a letter about what you hoped to achieve by giving up your soul. Among other things. But that’s the important part. You never read it.” Sebastian shrugged.

“I don’t see how that’s important.” The demon brought a hand to the bridge of his nose, massaging it. Frustrated, though Sebastian failed to see why. The concerns of those with souls were, for the most part, petty and fleeting. All concerns seemed petty and fleeting, at the moment, including his own half-remembered hunger for blood that had stalked him over the course of the past years.

“Not every soulless ever gains autonomy. What distinguishes those that do from those that don’t is their drive. Why exist? Why press on? What is the point of you? Some people only ever give up their souls because they want immortality. Eternal vigour. An escape from pain. Or simple curiosity. That’s not good enough. That can’t fuel a soulless to do anything other than exist. You wanted blood. You wanted revenge. Against your father, I believe. You forgot about him as soon as you lost your soul. But he was your catalyst for wanting as you wanted. You weren’t trying to seek him out. If he had been dead or in another country, you would have hunted anyone. And you wouldn’t be here with me. But he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and so were you. Though if you had a soul, you might disagree...” His dark eyes flickered to Sebastian’s face again, looking for something. Sebastian wasn’t sure what, “Do you understand what I’m saying?” Sebastian rolled to his side on the couch with a yawn. 

“I’m tired.” The demon scowled and reached out a hand to touch his cheek. Pain seared through his flesh like a wildfire, turning his vision red. 

“Can you stop that?” He batted away the intruding fingers. 

“Stay awake. Answer the question.”

“No. I have no fucking idea.” The demon’s eyes rolled up towards the ceiling, and his shoulders heaved in a sigh.

“What I’m saying is that you killed your catalyst. You lost your purpose. And unless you rectify the situation quickly, you’ll sleep until the world ends. Or, more likely, until the police pick you up and destroy you. You made quite a spectacle of yourself.” 

Sleeping the rest of eternity didn’t seem so terrible. The mention of being destroyed brought up a faint trace of worry, though. He didn’t feel deliciously satisfied as he had just after he consumed his last soul. The sharpness of his hunger was gone, but he still wanted for something. What he wanted was unclear to him, but he didn’t feel all used up yet. Tired though he was, he didn’t want to end. The demon must have seen as much, because the smile returned again, albeit not quite as widely. 

“I want to offer an alternative, Sebastian. We could have fun together, you and I. You could be my weapon for chaos. I do prefer to stay out of the limelight, for the most part. With a few exceptions.” The demon’s eyes narrowed like he had just told the punchline of a joke and was expecting laughter. Sebastian frowned, dragging a hand over his brow. 

“What is it you’re saying, exactly?” 

“Let me be your catalyst, Moran. Let me direct your actions and your rage. It will be so much more entertaining than letting the police have their way with you.” The demon slid closer again, curling one finger under his chin. This time, instead of pain, something cool and electrifying darted up his nerves, and Sebastian stirred. “Does that feel nice?” It did. He could get up if he wanted to. His limbs didn’t feel so heavy any more. 

“Then give yourself up,” The demon produced a document from the inside pocket of his wine-dark suit and offered it up alongside a fountain pen, “I will direct you. You’ll have a purpose. And, unless absolutely necessary, you will not die. Is that a deal?” It had an appeal far greater than the lethargy, so long as the demon could provide that little spark at any moment. Sebastian’s hand didn’t hesitate as he snatched up the pen and scrawled his signature on the bottom line, balancing the document awkwardly on his thigh. There was never any room for doubt with him, even without a soul. The demon’s eyes narrowed again, the corners of his mouth curling at some unheard joke as he accepted the paper, sliding it into his jacket pocket again. He offered out his hand, and Sebastian took it.

The effect was undiluted this time. Cool, unassailable intelligence and energy surged up his arm, searing away the mental fog in a burst. His name was Sebastian Moran. He was powerful, dangerous, soulless, and better for lack of one. And James Moriarty was the commander of his mind and body. That was all that mattered. The demon smiled, all vicious and gleeful, and kissed him full on the mouth. Sebastian came away tasting blood that could only be his own, but feeling only elation and raw vitality. Seeing his dizzy grin, the demon pulled away, licking his lips with his white tongue stained red.

“You can call me Jim.”


End file.
